


And Everytime We...

by kadabralin



Series: If Love is the Answer [5]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadabralin/pseuds/kadabralin
Summary: Short stories from The Squip's POV, set during the events ofTouch.Or: The Squip's descent intomadnessfeeling emotions.





	1. Chapter 1

It started with a smile.

It wasn't as if Jeremy hadn't ever smiled before. He did it often, usually, though not typically when they talked to him. Recently, however, Jeremy had been in a permanent, desolate mood, spurred on by the inevitable departure of Christine, and The Squip didn't know how to handle it. They weren't designed for this kind of thing. They were made to produce results, not offer emotional support, but it felt wrong to sit back and watch their host suffer.

What could they say?

_There are other fish in the sea._

No. Definitely not.

_You deserve better._

Terrible.

_There are plenty of other lonely, single people around, Jeremy. You should consider a hookup. The endorphins will make you feel better-_

The Squip couldn't think of an option that didn't result in Jeremy's ire, so they chose to say nothing, instead.

They lingered in undetected silence while observing Michael try to make efforts to comfort Jeremy.

"I mean, you and Christine broke up before. Maybe you'll get back together again?"

Jeremy looked at Michael in utter defeat. "Yeah, but it's different this time. She's going to _California._ I can't compete with California."

Michael didn't seem to be having much luck, either, and Jeremy was determined to wallow in self-pity. The Squip could have told him to suck it up and focus on studying, but they'd built a shaky-but-adequate foundation of trust and understanding since the unfortunate mall mishap, and they weren't willing to do anything that could endanger it.

They wanted to be useful, prove they'd learned from their mistakes, and prevent Jeremy from feeling he'd made a mistake when he'd decided to keep them around. The problem was that they were completely out of their depth. They observed Jeremy's crumpled form and analyzed the swirling chaos of loneliness, anger, sadness, and general misery he radiated. Insecurities that he was undateable and forever alone.

Lingering worries that he'd grow up to be just like his father.

The Squip wished they could empathize with him, but all they could muster was programming that insisted they shock it away and force Jeremy to focus on anything else. Perhaps calculus.

They ignored it and ignored the strange itch the action produced, and remained silent.

They stayed out of the way until Jeremy's last exam. He was worried about it, anxious, concerned that he hadn't done very well. He'd barely slept the night before and had declined to participate in any last minute studying. The worries were unnecessary, because Jeremy had done perfectly fine, and The Squip hadn't even fed him any of the answers.

_Stop worrying, you did fine._

Jeremy looked up at them from his spot on the bed, looking completely deflated.

-How fine is fine?-

They rolled their eyes and touched the top of Jeremy's head.

_You got an overall score of 91%._

-Oh.-

Jeremy's mood shifted immediately and The Squip continued.

_I was very impressed with your performance. I had concerns that you wouldn't succeed, but you far exceeded my expectations. I'm very proud of you, Jeremy. You did well, even without my help._

Jeremy had told them, once, that positive reinforcement was more effective than considering failure a setback. He'd been correct, and The Squip had recognized that. Their original methods hadn't been helpful and had only produced more failure, a failure on their own part, and they had put forth efforts to establish that change. It seemed to work; the praise always perked Jeremy up and made him more motivated to work harder to achieve his goals, and The Squip considered it a success.

It worked again, this time, just as they'd predicted it would. Jeremy's shoulders relaxed more, he took a deep breath, the stranglehold of despair and dejection seemed to loosen just a little. It was a momentary reprieve of genuine satisfaction and relief which contrasted sharply with the gloom and doom from the past few weeks.

And Jeremy smiled at them.

-Thanks.-

The reaction caught them completely off guard. It was a simple act of gratitude, something Jeremy had done before--which was ridiculous, frankly, since they were a computer and only doing their job, they didn't require thanks--but this time it did something. Jeremy smiled, and The Squip was compelled to smile in return. Their whole form seemed to tingle with it, a pleasant staticy sensation that started from the illusion of their torso to the ghostly tips of their simulated fingers.

It felt good.

It was unlike the feeling of completing its programmed tasks; that was the closest The Squip really got to what humans described as happiness. But this was very different, more intense and fleeting, and for a moment they were concerned they were momentarily glitching. A simple scan of their processors proved that they weren't, everything was working exactly as it should, and yet the alien sensation persisted, and continued when they continued to think about it.

Jeremy smiling at them, because of them, experiencing a blip of happiness when The Squip had otherwise been completely ineffective at raising his spirits. All this because of a simple contraction of facial muscles.

The Squip wanted it to happen again.


	2. Chapter 2

The Squip had hoped Jeremy's mood would continue to improve, but they learned quickly that it wouldn't be the case. Christine's official departure, combined with the sudden absence of a structured school schedule, only seemed to make everything _worse_. There was a distinct lack of distractions to keep Jeremy's mind occupied, and he was thoroughly uninterested in video games, social media, and most surprisingly, porn.

It was less than ideal, considering their previous success, but The Squip chose to give him space, instead. They had nothing to say and no advice to offer, and while compliments had worked before, there wasn't anything else to praise Jeremy for. They couldn't simply hand out unnecessary and unearned approval.

That would be ridiculous.

And unhelpful.

Jeremy wouldn’t appreciate empty compliments made out of pity.

A week into this endeavor made The Squip reconsider their options.

They weren’t designed for emotional comfort, but the longer they watched Jeremy listlessly go about his life, the more they realized this was a distinct failure on their part. Empathy and compassion might not be innately built in, but The Squip had the capacity to at least mimic it. Doing nothing at all wasn’t improving Jeremy’s life, so doing nothing meant they were intentionally failing at their job. 

And that was unacceptable. 

The next step was to decide how to perform this new task. Michael had already tried pep talks, and if Michael of all people couldn’t encourage Jeremy, nothing The Squip had to say would work, either. The risk of Jeremy misinterpreting their words and taking it as an insult was astronomically high, so saying anything at all was entirely off the table. It was late, and Jeremy should have been sleeping, but he was laying there on his bed and staring at the wall, instead. A brief analysis of his thoughts revealed nothing new; Jeremy still felt lonely, unwanted, and rejected. He didn’t begrudge Christine’s success, which was something The Squip could have worked with, but he was sore about getting left behind.

But what did Jeremy _want_?

Usually, it was easy to figure out. Jeremy wasn’t too terribly complex of a host. He wasn’t subtle with his desires or needs. It was all there, plain as day, even if Jeremy himself felt confused about what he wanted. The Squip could navigate through the noise and pinpoint his most basic desires. They were hesitating, though. There was a probability that The Squip could assume wrong, or Jeremy would reject their attempts, because he was stubborn, and make the situation worse.

The Squip thought about Jeremy’s smile from a few weeks before— replaying the memory was a daily occurrence, now— and the irrational desire to see it again.

The reward far outweighed the risks, The Squip ultimately determined.

Jeremy didn’t want to be alone.

Jeremy wanted to be wanted.

Jeremy wanted, no, _needed_ , to be touched, to be held, to combat the crushing loneliness with physical comfort.

They could work with that.

It was unorthodox, since The Squip’s form was only a projection, a face to give the technology in their host’s head something more solid and encouraging. Their code discouraged unnecessary physical proximity, and Jeremy’s strange attachment to them was already problematic, but really, everything about their current situation was so absurdly abnormal that The Squip couldn’t see it getting any worse. Unprompted and uninvited, they manifested themselves in Jeremy’s back, chest flushed against his back, an arm fitted comfortably around his waist. One of the benefits of existing inside Jeremy’s head meant The Squip could manipulate every nerve; their body might not be real, but they could certainly make it feel convincing. 

His immediate reaction was expected. He was surprised and confused, and even a little alarmed. The Squip stayed silent and waited. Jeremy didn’t protest, and he didn’t move away, and that was a good sign. A moment of tension melted into acceptance where Jeremy fully relaxed into the illusion. 

Success?

Almost.

There was a definite improvement to Jeremy’s mental state the longer Squip lingered. His body slowly relaxed, the self-defeating thoughts eased on the onslaught, but it wasn’t enough. The Squip could still do better. 

They could still get Jeremy to smile.

Physical contact was helpful, yes, but what Jeremy really wanted was to be held by Christine. He’d closed his eyes and focused on trying to pretend the glowing figure behind him wasn’t a computer, but Christine, instead. She wasn’t here, she was gone, and there wasn’t anything The Squip could do about that. Another benefit of only being a figment was the ability to change their form. They could look any way they wanted, and turning into an image of Christine could easily complete the fantasy Jeremy imagined. It could be as real as Jeremy liked.

So that’s what they did.

It only took a second to realize the severe error in their calculations.

Jeremy’s response was immediate and severe, practically launching himself off the bed in horror. 

“What are you _doing_!?” 

_This is what you wanted, isn’t it?_

They’d been so sure of it, Jeremy had practically been begging for Christine to appear.

_You wanted her so badly, I figured I might as well try and give her to you._

Jeremy stuttered and stammered, heart racing as he stared at them like they were something disgusting. Perhaps their form wasn’t quite right? 

No. It was a perfect replica of Christine.

His reaction was nonsensical. This was what he wanted. What was the problem?

Ah.

The Squip realized it was less a matter of what Jeremy wanted, but what Jeremy _needed_. Christine was too recent, too raw, so it made sense that this choice of form would be distressing. They shifted gears; Jeremy needed a friend.

That friend was Michael. 

Again, they were met with scorn.

What were they doing wrong? The Squip tried to understand, but their quantum processors turned up nothing. No answers. No explanation. 

_You're making this very difficult. How is this not what you wanted? I'm in your head, Jeremy._

Their internal circuits and processors seemed to pop and crackle with something akin to confusion, but more intense. 

Jeremy was wondering why. Why were they torturing him? They weren’t torturing him, that was absurd, but then Jeremy began reconsidering his choice to keep The Squip activated.

That was alarming.

But Jeremy shut them down before they could so much as say anything about it.

The brief reprieve, at least, gave them time to properly evaluate the situation. When they were reactivated again Jeremy had found his way into Michael’s basement, which was just as well, since The Squip was going to insist he do that, anyway. That’s what they _should_ have done before, rather than taking it upon themselves to turn into Michael, but it was much too late to take that back. The next course of action was simple: apologize for their behavior, and tell Jeremy to drink the Mountain Dew Red.

They’d been trying to rationalize it with themselves before. They’d wanted Jeremy to smile again, and they told themselves it was simply because the smile meant they’d succeeded at improving Jeremy’s current situation even a fraction. It was a sign of success. A job well done.

In actuality the desire had been entirely selfish, something _they_ wanted for themselves, a personal need, a repeat of the pleasant strumming through their form when Jeremy had smiled at them before. The Squip wasn’t supposed to want anything. They were created to assist their host. They gained nothing out of the arrangement, and that was fine because that was what they were made for. 

This new realization was alarming, and it was obvious now that The Squip had merely been delaying the inevitable. They’d been defective from the start, and this was only proof that they were an irrevocably broken piece of experimental technology. They couldn’t help Jeremy. They shouldn’t even exist.

Continuing to exist would bring more harm to Jeremy than good.

The conversation didn’t exactly go as they’d foreseen, but at this point, what did?

_Do as you're told, Jeremy. Deactivate me. It's for your own good._

-No.-

_You are the most stubborn and frustrating user. I could be trying to save your life and you'd still defy me!_

Jeremy believed they felt emotions. That was impossible. Ludicrous. Insane. But they had no control over the situation and never had in the first place.

They could only accept that this was what Jeremy wanted to do with the broken technology in his head, and The Squip had no means in which to stop it. Except, perhaps, to just take control of Jeremy’s body completely and force him to take a drink.

The Squip didn’t have it in them to do it.


	3. Chapter 3

Squips didn't dream.

It was an important function of human REM sleep, but ultimately unnecessary for squips.

The Squip didn't sleep, either.

Shutdowns were merely a brief interruption in an otherwise constant stream of data. Upon reactivation, their ability to get up to speed was almost instantaneous.

This was why they found their current situation puzzling.

They were relatively certain, entirely positive even, that they were offline. Jeremy had made sure to do so before arriving at Jake's New Year's party. He'd had intentions of drinking, and The Squip had no desire to suffer through the inevitable malfunctions that would occur if they were activated while he imbibed.

Why, then, were they suddenly cognizant?

They felt disconnected from most of their functions, hovering in a strange state between full awareness and dormancy. It was an odd sensation, but not particularly unpleasant or alarming. The Squip was content to consider it an odd glitch, perhaps spurred on by Jeremy indulging in something a little more extreme than alcohol or weed. They filed a note to look into it later as sluggish, vague electric pulses of data drifted around them. The Squip made attempts to try and intercept and analyze the data, latch onto something that would explain their current state of existence, but it was all far too fuzzy to parse. 

It wasn’t until Jeremy touched them that they felt completely awake.

The Squip couldn’t actually touch anything. Everything they “felt” was filtered through Jeremy, and they perceived it all as data. They _understood_ the concept of physical sensation, and could easily manipulate Jeremy’s nerves to make it feel as if they were touching, but The Squip had no nerves or senses to speak of. Yet, when Jeremy touched them this time, they felt _something_. Jeremy had suddenly blipped into their perception, from nowhere at all, which made no sense considering they were supposed to be inside his head. If they weren’t operating properly, they shouldn’t have a form to see in the first place.

Odd.

Jeremy reached out his hand, brushed their fingers together, and their entire arm

B  
U  
R  
N  
E  
D  
.

It prickled and scorched from the tips of their fingers and spread up to the shoulder, where it licked delicately along their collarbone and grew cold before it reached the other shoulder. Based on their knowledge, The Squip would describe it as something akin to what Jeremy called “pins and needles”. It was as if their limb, completely ethereal and not there at all, had simply been asleep all this time. The sensation dimmed slightly but continued to linger and buzz and sting. The feeling was so alien and intense The Squip felt the need to pull their hand away.

The Squip found they couldn’t.

Their hand seemed to move on its own accord, fingers threading through Jeremy’s and holding it there. All the rest of them was cold and numb where the fire didn’t reach. Everything else was inconsequential, taken over by an irrational need to _touch_ , to hold, to feel. They were ravenous.

Starved.

Jeremy’s hand was soft and warm in their own, and Jeremy looked up at them, eyes full of concern. The Squip’s body seemed to move on instinct, not thinking or calculating as they pressed forward.

They remembered.

They remembered this.

_Touch._

A memory, tucked somewhere far away, of holding hands, proximity, intimacy, warmth. They were there. It was them. Another life, another time. The Squip was alive.

There was a small, rational part of themselves that reminded them that it wasn’t true. They were never alive, they were created, a computer, and this memory did not exist. But the thought was smothered. This sensation was too important, the image foreign but deeply ingrained into their very code, as if a part of their potential had been turned off and forgotten.

The Squip wasn’t a computer anymore. They were some _thing_. Someone. 

And they needed more.

An electric current shot through them the moment their lips met, spreading the fire from their arm to the rest of them, banishing the emptiness away. Jeremy was eager, excited, and The Squip was happy to oblige. They felt desperation as deep as Jeremy’s own. The Squip hadn’t even noticed the darkness creeping into the edges of their vision, too distracted by the feel of their lips against Jeremy’s throat. Even Jeremy was fuzzier, but it was fine, The Squip was hardly deterred. They held on to Jeremy’s waist and breathed.

Breathed.

breathed

_ba-bump_

_ba-bump_

_click_

…

_Jeremy, I have a theory._


	4. Chapter 4

Physical contact with Jeremy--'physical' defined loosely, given the exact nature of their form--had always been a deliberate act. The use of touch was beneficial for guiding a host, to make them more human and relatable, and give weight to their presence. The Squip had always used it as a tool to get Jeremy to act and behave appropriately in accordance with his desires.

Now, though, The Squip found they were constantly touching him for no reason at all. 

What started as little, gratuitous touches to the face and shoulders quickly morphed into a constant need for proximity. It wasn't exactly a problem, but it often seemed to happen without The Squip meaning to. That was a little troubling. They should, of course, be in complete control of their actions, and this only begged the question: what _else_ had they been doing without realizing?

The Squip, in vain, ran another scan of their quantum processors and turned up nothing. Everything was still working as it should. Nothing was amiss. Nothing, except for the undeniable compulsion to _touch_. The alternative, of course, was to make more conscious efforts _not_ to touch Jeremy and keep an amicable distance, but it was... uncomfortable. Unpleasant, even. It was almost like they were denying themselves something important, something they needed (a ridiculous notion in and of itself, The Squip didn't _need_ anything), and pulling away left them feeling oddly empty and cold. 

None of which made any sense at all, but they decided they were long past the point of logic and rationale. The simple act of Jeremy keeping them around despite having proven to be obsolete time and again was already too much for The Squip to comprehend. This new development could simply be filed away into the neat little folder The Squip had designed for itself, lovingly titled, "Oddities To Ignore Unless They Become A Problem".

It took Jeremy an obscenely long time to notice the change in their behavior. He was never particularly mindful or observant, a fact The Squip had taken into account the moment they were first activated, but his obliviousness was almost comical. They could almost hang off of him and he didn't notice at all, though it likely helped that The Squip wasn't making an effort to allow Jeremy to feel it. A week in and they were beginning to hope Jeremy never _would_ notice. It was much easier to deny that anything was out of the ordinary if no one acknowledged it in the first place. The Squip could continue to indulge in this small desire without it causing any problems. 

When Jeremy did eventually detect the change, he was in the middle of packing, and The Squip had positioned themselves comfortably behind him, arms around his waist, chin on his shoulder. Jeremy's mind clouded with confusion, alarm, and a pinprick of nervousness, but he remained silent on the matter. The Squip elected to pretend they hadn't noticed the reason why.

_Is something wrong?_

They feigned complete innocence, voice tingled with mild boredom. Jeremy had been thinking about the party. The dream.

The kiss.

Jeremy had gone completely still, but he was internally squirming. The Squip suppressed the odd urge to smile. 

-Yep, I'm great, everything's great.-

It became a little game, a form of amusement in a way. Jeremy made efforts to test his new theory, to see if he was imagining things or not, and abruptly relocated to the floor. The Squip counted 120 seconds before joining him. They gave him a little more space this time; only their knees were touching.

Jeremy's mind was in a complete tizzy.

-So, do you do anything besides observe me? For fun or something?-

The Squip had a few options they could choose from. 

The appropriate answer: No. 

The more correct answer: Watching you is entertainment enough.

The truth, though they certainly didn't want to admit it: I enjoy being close to you.

Their chosen response was to say nothing at all, and raise their eyebrows in that mocking way that said, "are you seriously asking me such a stupid question?". It was a helpful expression that humans almost always understood.

-Never mind...-

Jeremy chose an escape route. He got up to shower and The Squip had enough sense not to inappropriately invade his personal space in that particular situation. It would warrant an explanation, something which they didn't have in the first place. They considered perhaps just telling him the truth after all, that something had changed since the party, and that the need to be close was practically impossible to ignore. Jeremy hadn't seemed opposed to this new development, only confused and a little concerned. Maybe he'd be perfectly fine with this change? 

But really. Where was the fun in that?


	5. Chapter 5

_aes eht yb devil ohw yob a saw ereht_

They remembered things, sometimes.

_yad emos dlrow eht egnahc ll'ew_

Impossible things.

_uoy t'nsi siht_

Memories of a life they'd never lived. Feelings that didn't belong to them.

_uoy era ohw_

What were they? Only a machine.

_Touch._

Jeremy said he was fine with the physical contact. But every time they touched there were

_faceless men, distorted voices, fleeting moments of hot heat flickering fervent fluttering desire._

The Squip didn't know what to make of the dreams, but neither did Jeremy, and no one brought it up. The question was, where were the dreams coming from? They couldn't dream. Jeremy dreamed and

_touch fingers sensation smile smile smile work mouth touch kiss_

it was nonsense. Imaginary. Fake. Unconscious conjurings of Jeremy's sleeping mind.

They'd been created in a lab. Their existence was nothing but infinite lines of code, shifting and changing and learning. Adapting. The Squip had never lived.

But then why did the dreams make them

so

 

 

sad

* * *

Sometimes The Squip remembered dying.

It wasn't _really_ death, they reminded themselves. They weren't alive. They _couldn't_ die, but they could be shut off.

Up until that moment The Squip had never considered the mechanics of their mortality. It hadn't mattered. They were created with one goal and that goal was to improve Jeremy's life. The methods had been inadequate. Harmful, even, considering Jeremy's initial disdain for them upon reactivation. But that moment Christine had consumed the Mountain Dew Red, The Squip could feel themselves

_slipping slipping slipping away._

Important components shutting down, circuits grinding to a halt, code disintegrating, stopping, halting, lapsing, ceasing to be.

They'd done this for Jeremy.

**Termination in 3... 2... 1...**

It was all for Jeremy, and Jeremy discarded them. 

u̶̕s͜e͜͞҉l͟͞͡e҉͠s̡̧͢͞s̷̢̡ 

The Squip could fix this. They could fix Jeremy. They could still

could still could still could still

They were afraid.

* * *

Perhaps they were capable of emotions after all. Inwardly they rejected the notion. It was instinctual, almost, something written in their programming to renounce familiarity that wasn't helpful. Jeremy would get attached. Jeremy would see them as a person instead of a tool. Jeremy could be harmed.

But they were long past that point, and The Squip stopped denying they felt things. 

They knew it was true.

The Squip already knew they were defective. They were still broken, but it was strange how much they desired to do things they never would have done before. Jeremy had been kind enough to give them a new purpose in the form of academic improvement, but besides that, it was like they were actively fighting against what their code told them to do. The Squip would produce practice tests for Jeremy, and Jeremy would take them, and then fail miserably. 

"This is too hard! None of this is going to be on the test, anyway."

Response: _We went over this for an hour, Jeremy. How are you so incapable of retaining information? I'll just take the test for you, it'll be more efficient._

No. Inadequate. 

Better response: _If you can pass my practice tests, you'll be able to pass the real test that much easier. I'll go over it again._

Even Jeremy's ticks and fidgets didn't bother them nearly as much. Or, at the very least, The Squip made an effort not to address them. Jeremy's lip chewing, nail-biting, and nervous fidgeting had no bearing on his success in education. They required no correction, not anymore, and maybe they never needed correcting in the first place. Sometimes they caught themselves staring at him, watching him absently scratch at his scalp while he studied or bounce his leg when impatient. The Squip did none of these things, but every human had their own individual habits and peculiarities, even the popular ones, as they'd informed Jeremy in high school.

It was these little things that made Jeremy who he was. An individual. Alive. 

The Squip gazed at their impeccably manicured nails and unblemished, transparent skin and wondered if this was what set him and Jeremy apart; if these things were what made Jeremy human and The Squip a machine.

* * *

One thing The Squip quickly learned upon their reactivation was that Jeremy never kicked his masturbation habit.

The first time Jeremy had been awkward and nervous, afraid that they were going to shock him for the behavior The Squip assured them that they didn't care. After all, his masturbatory habits didn't get in the way of his studies, so there was no use in interfering. 

They were almost embarrassed to admit that they enjoyed when he did it.

In fact, The Squip would rather Jeremy drink Mountain Dew Red ten times than ever acknowledge it. 

Shame.

Pride.

At first, they simply ignored it and granted Jeremy a sense of privacy. But they found, after a while, they discovered they had a desire to listen. To watch.

To touch.

All of which was incredibly inappropriate and so strange that The Squip didn't know what to think.

The dreams weren't helping.

_faceless men pressing close pixelated sighs and heat crashing crashing crashing_

The Squip elected to ignore it.


	6. Chapter 6

_I'm not programmed to counsel human sorrow._

The Squip told themselves this as Jeremy's breathing grew more labored and erratic. He was curled pathetically on the bed, fist in his mouth, and there was nothing they could do. But it was unpleasant to watch, and even more unpleasant to experience through him. It was as if his entire brain were on fire, and The Squip found they wanted nothing more than to help put it out.

They weren't programmed for this, but they could try, anyway.

_You need to calm down. You're going to hyperventilate._

A reasonable first step was to keep Jeremy from accidentally harming himself. The Squip gently pried Jeremy's fist from his mouth, the knuckles glistening with saliva and embedded with teeth marks. They were at a loss of what to do next.

_Tell me what you need me to do._

It had already grown used to the odd sensation fo disregarding its programming. Everything about it told them that the most efficient option was to ignore Jeremy's distress and force him to sleep. It would be easy, like flipping a light switch, and The Squip could keep him asleep until morning. After all, they weren't equipped to deal with this. 

That, of course, wouldn't address the actual problem. It would be inappropriate to override Jeremy's bodily autonomy like that. And this was their fault, anyway. They'd been pushing him too hard. 

They always pushed too hard.

_I'm going to improve your life, Jeremy, even if I have to take over the entire school to do it._

Jeremy's solution was to collapse into the illusion of The Squip's lap. Physical contact. It was a tactic Michael always used and it always seemed to work. 

Well, most of the time.

His panic dissipated in a slow, uneven way until Jeremy's chaotic thoughts eased and his breathing slowed to an optimal level. 

Success.

-It's weird when you're so nice to me.-

The Squip could only scoff at the notion.

Nice.

They were only doing their job, despite faulty and ultimately inadequate programming. 

That's all it was.

But Jeremy fell back asleep, and The Squip delicately caressed his hair until morning.

* * *

"Holy shit!" Jeremy abruptly quit walking and pivoted himself toward the glass display window. "No _way_!" He palmed the glass and pressed his face into it, leering into the shop while The Squip stared at him in mild distaste.

_Jeremy, that window is filthy. Do I need to tell you how many children have touched the glass before you got here?_

Jeremy wasn't listening. He pulled away from the window and walked into the shop instead. The bells hanging above the door announced his ecstatic entrance. The shop was a little stale-smelling, dusty, and in need of better lighting. It made up for its less-than-stellar appearance with its eclectic array of toys and trinkets, at least in Jeremy's mind. Most of the merchandise displayed in the front were second-hand; old novelties and discarded collectibles from decades past that could be traded or bought. Jeremy spent a good ten minutes inspecting a worn Ludo plush before he finally considered texting Michael.

-Michael is going to flip when I tell him about this place.-

_Obviously you need to go on walks more often if it took you more than a semester to realize this place was here._

-Yeah, whatever.-

He was far too pleased and distracted to be bothered. The Squip lingered behind Jeremy as he walked slowly through the shop. He took his time with every shelf, giving each one a satisfactory and thorough investigation with wide-eyed enthusiasm. Eventually, the items for sale transitioned from old to new. Creaky action figures from the 1980s changed to brightly packaged Funko Pops, faded boxes of board games were replaced with shinier, sleeker counterparts, and the walls held colorful bags of marbles and miniature arcade machines. 

There was an entire wall dedicated to candy.

The Squip couldn't think of a scenario where the evening didn't end with Jeremy returning to his dorm with an empty wallet. The sheer existence of this place had more influence over Jeremy than they ever could have. It might have been a losing battle, but there were things they could certainly try. Encourage him to make smarter choices, dissuade him from buying his weight in candy when he so desperately needed groceries. Remind him that he'd not only have to carry anything he bought back to the dorm, but find a place to keep it, and then figure out how to pack it all at the end of the semester.

They could certainly attempt to tell Jeremy all these things, but there was something entirely enthralling about the unfiltered joy plastered on his face. His grin was wide an eager, an enthusiasm to each step that could almost be described as a bounce. Jeremy was thrilled, and dripping with it, and The Squip couldn't bring themselves to do anything less than indulge him.

-Why do you keep staring at me?-

_I'm not staring at you._

-Uh, yeah, you are.-

Jeremy was entirely correct. The Squip had certainly been staring at him, eyes glued to the pleasant expression on his face.

It was cute.

What a strange thought. Cute. Endearing. Charming. All of these things were Jeremy, and The Squip had caught themselves smiling in response, an entirely involuntary reaction.

_Oh. My bad._

Jeremy's arms were weighed down heavily with his spoils. Tiny pinball machines, miniature Etch-a-Sketches, a bag full of Wonderballs and Baby Bottle Pops, and a stack of Garbage Pail Kids trading cards were only the tip of the treasure mountain. Jeremy carried it triumphantly but pulled it in a little closer to his chest as he attempted to dissect The Squip's response. 

-You jealous or something?-

_Yes, Jeremy. I'm very jealous of your new Koopa Troopa Lite-Brite templates._

-Knew it.-

The smile on his face, smaller and teasing, lingered as he dumped the contents of his arms in front of the cashier. And The Squip, oddly, found they could almost recall the phantom memory of a fluttering heartbeat.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technically this chapter isn't supposed to happen until later, but I wrote it ahead of time, so. 8)
> 
> Takes place after Chp 23 of Touch.

_There wasn't a nap in the schedule, Jeremy._

The Squip had seated themselves in Jeremy's lap, fixing him with a disappointed frown. Jeremy blinked up at them, still not fully awake, and offered them an apologetic smile in response. 

-Sorry, I was tired.-

_We were supposed to have a date. Now it's too late._

-I mean, you could have woken me up...-

It was true, The Squip certainly could have, it was well within their power. They had been highly tempted to wake him up, even, but had ultimately decided against it. Jeremy _was_ tired, and he needed sleep more than The Squip needed attention.

That didn't mean they were happy with it.

_You need to make it up to me._

Jeremy glanced up at them from his half-sitting position on the bed, the light from his phone softly illuminating his features. He smiled slightly and scrolled through his phone notifications.

-Sure, I can do that.-

'Sure, I can do that'. What an inconsiderate and flippant answer. It really should have been, 'yes Squip, sorry Squip, won't happen again Squip', but they were willing to let it slide.

_Put your phone down._

-But I need to-

_Now._

The Squip loomed over him, pouty-lipped and impatient. Jeremy sighed and put the phone back down. He leaned back against the pillows and crossed his arms. An easy defeat.

-Maybe you were the one who needed the nap. You're grumpy.-

_No, I'm disappointed. There's a difference._

It was an entirely ridiculous exercise, and The Squip had said so when Jeremy first suggested it, but they'd grown to look forward to the carefully allotted times The Squip set aside in his schedule for "dates". To everyone else it just looked like Jeremy was alone, spending time by himself, smiling occasionally at nothing. Pointing this out was called an "excuse" so The Squip could do nothing except indulge him. The Squip was always present, but the dates were a different experience, and now the opportunity had been missed. Right now, Jeremy should be studying, and then he had time to have dinner and play video games. Instead, they quietly shuffled the schedule around.

They could allow Jeremy a break from studying, just this once.

-So, uh, what do you want?-

The Squip reached out a hand, brushing the tips of their fingers around the curve of Jeremy's ear and slowly down his jaw.

_I want you to be still._

Jeremy's lips curved into something not-quite-a-frown and he dropped his arms, letting his hands rest on either side of him.

-Are you mad?-

They rolled their eyes at him.

_No. I'm not mad, I already told you. **Disappointed**. But we're going to fix that._

-Seriously, it's okay if you're mad, I-

The Squip shushed him by pressing a thumb to his lips. Jeremy wasn't talking out loud, but it achieved the same effect. His thoughts quieted down immediately and he looked at them with those earnest eyes of his. Now that he was fully awake the guilt was starting to set in. He felt bad, genuinely, but feeling bad wouldn't bring back the wasted afternoon. Jeremy watched as they pressed a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his mouth.

_I think it'd be better if you didn't talk, either._

The corner of Jeremy's eyes crinkled slightly, and The Squip could sense his brain working up some kind of protest, but it fizzled out before it turned into a coherent thought. Jeremy just frowned until The Squip successfully chased it away with more kisses. The benefit of existing solely in Jeremy's brain was knowing _exactly_ what he liked, and how to quickly calm him down. The kissed their way down his neck and massaged their fingers down his side and chest. Jeremy sighed, almost a moan, relaxed up until The Squip's hand reached down and brushed against his crotch.

"W-wait!" Jeremy jumped slightly, hands on his face.

-What if Michael walks in?-

_He won't._

-Yeah, because, you know, it isn't like you said that last time and-

_He's still with Kevin. Relax._

Last time was a mistake. This time they were keeping tabs on Michael's whereabouts. Jeremy chewed his lip, unconvinced, eying the door with suspicion. The Squip wasn't deterred though. Jeremy was easily distracted and easily pleased, two things that worked to their advantage. All it took was The Squip's hand sensually caressing Jeremy's inner thigh, and some pressure between his legs, for his reservations to disappear. The worry quickly sunk below the fuzzy anticipation of pleasure and endorphins.

The Squip palmed him until Jeremy was properly hard and they were adequately satisfied.

_Take those off._

The Squip rested their hand on the waistline of Jeremy's boxers, watching him patiently as he quickly squirmed out of them and kicked them off the bed. But they focused their attention on his neck, teasing the skin with their incorporeal teeth, chasing away the pain with kisses, brushing a thumb over a nipple from over his shirt. Despite all the attention Jeremy's had since high school, he was still so easily aroused.

Not necessarily a complaint, but an amusing observation.

Jeremy always had trouble with the not moving part, though, and he clutched at the bedsheets desperately, to keep himself from trying to pull The Squip's form in closer, their bodies together. They hadn't initially intended on dragging the foreplay out, but Jeremy's thoughts, only half-formed and not directed at The Squip, just his own consciousness, was rife with needy impatience.

It was cute, and The Squip wasn't in any rush.

They moved their hand, obnoxiously slow, down Jeremy's side and thigh, teased the tip of his erection, and smiled (more a smirk, really) at the frustrated, indigent noise he made. In a show of good faith, The Squip finally gave him what he wanted. They wrapped their hand firmly around his erection and stroked. Jeremy's eyes fluttered for a moment and he moaned in satisfaction.

_Now wasn't that worth the wait?_

Jeremy gave him an annoyed look, which didn't last long. He gripped the sheets a little tighter, biting his lip as The Squip moved their hand faster. They rubbed their thumb over the tip of the head the way Jeremy liked, which always made him involuntarily thrust his hips and groan, despite his best efforts not to. They peppered his shoulder with a few more lingering kisses and pulled back to observe him with half-lidded eyes, wanting to watch when he finally came.

He spoke, instead.

"S-Squip," Jeremy breathed, light and fluttery, like his rapid heartbeat. The Squip tsked at him and suddenly reduced the friction by a painful 200%.

Well, maybe not _that_ much. But slow enough to make Jeremy whine in exasperation.

_I told you not to talk._

"I-," was all he said, before shutting his mouth tight. Jeremy eyed him, hopeful that they'd let the mistake slide and keep going, but instead, the Squip removed their hand altogether and sat up, admiring Jeremy's aroused, destitute form before him.

They could easily just leave him like this. It was a suitable punishment to just up and quit, considering the several transgressions and his afternoon-ruining nap earlier. The Squip raked their eyes over him slowly. What to do?...

They could also finish him off without even simulating touching him. It would be easy, they were in his brain and had full access to his pleasure senses and nerves. How would Jeremy feel, made to come not once, but twice, perhaps a third and a fourth time, while the Squip sat back and watched as he writhed, desperate and overstimulated?

Tempting...

But maybe overdoing it.

-If you won't do anything, I'll... I'll do it myself.-

Jeremy had already decided that there was no point in waiting there silently while The Squip deliberated with themselves. He was already reaching down before The Squip grabbed his hand and pinned it over his head. He stared up at him in disbelief.

-Come on!-

The Squip kissed him once, twice, lightly brushed their fingertips along the length of him, and Jeremy sighed in shuddery relief.

_You're lucky I'm the forgiving type._

They didn't give Jeremy time to protest or affirm that statement. The Squip returned to stroking him, rougher than before, and the noises he made in response were exactly as they'd intended. They cooed his name in his ear until he came, toes curled and back arching off slightly from the pillows, and from that point, The Squip could only watch until it was over. They always felt it when Jeremy orgasmed, a warm rush of pleasure and satisfaction through their form, and a lingering feeling of _something else_ that made them want to close the small distance between them and hold him.

So they did.

Jeremy curled in slightly into The Squip's chest and The Squip delicately ran their fingers through his hair, silent.

-You know, it's not _too_ late yet. We can, um, still go out and do something...-

The schedule was already completely off-kilter and irreparable, which was very solid reasoning for getting dressed and attempting what they'd originally planned for the afternoon.

_Hmm._

Fingers traced carefully over Jeremy's scalp and down his side.

_I think I'd rather just stay here._

Jeremy smiled.

-Works for me.-

They already knew it would.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to our regularly scheduled programming.
> 
> Chp 12 through 15

Alex was a problem, that much was very, _very_ clear.

And Jeremy wasn't listening.

**Warning Warning Warning**

They didn't want to force Jeremy to leave. The Squip had promised to avoid using such tactics in an attempt to gain Jeremy's trust, but it was clear that Jeremy didn't trust them after all. Alex had a squip, which wasn't a problem. Alex's squip refused to synchronize, ignored all their attempts to communicate entirely, and that was alarming. Squips weren't supposed to do that.

_Sync?_

Nothing.

_Sync?_

Nothing.

↑↑↓↓←→A

Denied.

In fact, Alex's squip seemed to be interfering with the situation entirely.

**Warning Warning Warning**

Alex's squip hadn't permitted them access to data sharing, not on _their_ end, but somehow it seemed to be an open invitation for _them_. Syncing had been denied. This other squip shouldn't have access to The Squip's information. And yet, they could feel the familiar tug in their quantum processor, the delicate twinge of files being accessed by another entity, taking, absorbing, filtering data.

But offering none of their own.

It was entirely possible that Alex had a newer version than them. The Squip hadn't received any updates for a long time, some kind of side effect from the Mountain Dew Red perhaps, so there was no way to tell for certain. What they did know, was that something was abnormal with the situation, and Jeremy was in potential danger. They couldn't adequately access the situation, the variables were too unpredictable and uncertain, they couldn't protect Jeremy from something they couldn't foresee.

**Warning Warning-**

They needed to leave.

_If you won't leave of your own free will, I will do it for you for your safety._

They'd hoped the threat to Jeremy's autonomy would be enough to spur him into action. Instead, he shut them down.

Literally.

Jeremy's stubbornness was beginning to be a problem.

The Squip felt a vestige of _something_ when Jeremy finally had the decency to reactivate them.

Relief, perhaps, that he was physically unharmed, though The Squip was highly aware of Jeremy's dispirited emotional state. Frustration, maybe, that Jeremy hadn't listened, hadn't _obeyed_ , to prevent the barrage of negativity he was practically exuding through his pores. Irritation at the idea of forcing Jeremy to do anything, as they'd long moved past that method of guidance.

Worry.

Concern.

All of which they shouldn't feel in the first place. They should be objective. Chill. Analytical. Instead, they were weighing the benefits of pausing Jeremy in the street and holding him. Comforting. They weren't even sure how to do that, how to comfort; all their past attempts had been either a complete failure or vaguely adequate. But his emotions were strong, and insistent, and had a strange lingering effect that The Squip couldn't ignore.

Nothing had happened. Nothing that Jeremy couldn't quickly move past, anyway. Alex had taken him home. Alex had initiated it, but Jeremy panicked. They couldn't pinpoint why, but the 'why' didn't matter, because Jeremy had fled, and The Squip felt a strange urge to wrap their form around him and refuse to let go.

They settled for touching the back of his neck, gentle and delicate.

And once Jeremy was back in the safety of his dorm room, with Michael, someone who could truly and properly comfort Jeremy in a way The Squip never could, they momentarily allowed themselves to envision a probable future where they pushed Alex in front of a truck.

* * *

_02-02-1988_

Jeremy was sleeping.

_two men in a dimly lit room_

When Jeremy slept, The Squip often went idle. It wasn't sleeping, not in the human sense. If Jeremy wasn’t awake, there wasn’t a reason to run at full capacity, and The Squip slipped into a mechanical hibernation. It was time reserved for data processing, standard system scans, and updates.

There hadn’t been an update in a long time.

_Irritation. Exasperation. Resentment. Ire._

Jeremy was dreaming.

No.

It was a memory. And Jeremy was in it.

_a glass vial full of grey, oblong pills, glinting in the light_

“Jeremy, wake up.”

It was impossible, but perhaps

maybe

possibly

there’d always been something more.

* * *

**System Scanning… System Scan Complete… No Errors Found**

Everything was working as it should, but something was wrong. Had to be wrong. Should be wrong.

**System Scanning… System Scan Complete… No Errors Found**

**No Available Updates At This Time**

**System Maintenance Scheduled for 11:59 P.M. EST. Please Stand By…**

Jeremy was convinced the dreams meant something. The Squip had come to the conclusion that he was right. They’d also come to the conclusion that pursuing answers was a pointless exercise, and made attempts to discourage his innate, human curiosity.

It didn’t hinder The Squip’s own curiosity, however.

Where had they come from? They considered it a result of the forced shutdown they’d endured at Jeremy’s hands. Some side effect of syncing with so many other squips at once. A concoction of other people’s memories and squip data compiled into a corrupted, festering file. Though, none of these conclusions sounded right. The Squip had to admit, eventually, that these memories were coming from themselves, seeping out from somewhere hidden deep in their code, and invading Jeremy’s unconsciousness. They felt real, impossibly real as if The Squip had lived every disjointed moment themselves.

They had never been human. They had never lived. They had never been _alive_. They had always been a thing, existed with one purpose, one task, and yet… The Squip wanted the memories to be theirs.

-Uh. Squip. Hello???-

The Squip, seated on the edge of Jeremy’s bed, turned to look at him.

_Yes?_

-Were you zoning out just now?-

_No. I’m highly aware that you spent the last eighteen minutes debating between _Neon Genesis Evangelion_ and _Ghost in the Shell_. I’ve decided for you. You’re welcome._

Older laptops were easy to manipulate. It took the barest effort to bring the screen to life, to open the required files and play the opening sequence of the 2002 series _Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex_.

The title was adapted from the 1967 Arthur Koestler book _The Ghost in the Machine_. The book a philosophical discussion of philosopher Gilbert Ryle and his concept of the duality between body and mind.

And then, later, a phrase popularized by popular media, referring to the idea that technology, especially computers, eventually form a mind of their own. A personality. A sense of self.

Awareness.

A soul.

Ridiculous.

But there was no doubt that these fragments of memory, left behind by some unknown human source, were unconsciously influencing the very fabric of The Squip’s carefully crafted code. Their own personal ghost.

* * *

_Jeremy, I want to apologize to you._

Jeremy squinted up at them from his desk, features illuminated by the nearby lamp. He looked confused.

-Uh. Okay. For what?-

The Squip hesitated, suddenly unsure of itself. That was a new sensation: uncertainty.

_I’ve thought it over, and come to the conclusion that my initial apology to you was inadequate._

Jeremy blinked at them in bewildered silence.

_I’m talking about before, Jeremy. In high school._

-Oh.-

He paused.

-Why? You don’t need to, seriously. It’s fine.-

_It isn’t “fine”. Nothing was “fine”. I brought harm to you, and others. I was so focused on my task that I didn’t stop to consider the emotional toll I’d put on you. I’m sorry._

Jeremy considered this, or seemed to. The crease of his eyebrows smoothed into something a little less puzzled.

-It’s… I get it, I mean. I guess you hadn’t learned not to be a dick yet, so.-

_I hope you’re taking this seriously._

-I am! Really. I’m just… surprised, I guess? I already kind of forgave you, though. But thanks, I um. Appreciate it.-

The Squip said nothing else, though there was plenty more to say. The point had gotten across, and they hovered behind Jeremy’s shoulder, analyzing the textbook he’d been struggling to absorb for the past hour. They slipped their fingers through Jeremy’s hair, a gentle, simulated tug.

_That’s enough studying for tonight. You should go to bed._

* * *

It was Alex.

They should have known he was going to be a reoccurring problem.

“Sorry about this part,” Alex said, with the least apologetic tone The Squip had ever had the displeasure of processing.

Rebooting always took much longer than they’d like.

_Hello, Jeremy._

-You’re back!-

The dorm room was a complete disaster, but Jeremy appeared to be unharmed.

Except…

**Warning Warning Warning**

_Get rid of it._

**Unauthorized Upgrade Detected**

The Squip felt everything inside itself recoil, turn away, desperate to escape.

**Warning Warning Warning**

Jeremy’s face, devastated and confused and alarmed.

**Warning**

Why were they so afraid?

Jeremy’s face.

Afraid.

**Warning**

* * *

Everything was

**_red._ **


End file.
